


The Thrill of Irritation

by Ameliorably



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e01 Pilot, F/M, Pre-Season/Series 01, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ameliorably/pseuds/Ameliorably
Summary: A pre-season story that runs into the Pilot episode. H/M:Margaret had walked into the mess tent with high hopes, only to find the blonde, curly haired one and the dark haired one with sparkly blue eyes sniggering over something. They were barely even in uniform, their fatigues weren’t buttoned and they weren’t even wearing their bars. Her nostrils flared in irritation; they hadn’t even saluted her! Then they opened their mouths.“Hey gorgeous”, the blonde one said with his most charming smile.Margaret sputtered, momentarily too aghast to speak, “That’s Major to you!”“Hey Majorly gorgeous”, the dark haired one retorted with what could only be described as sarcastic smarm.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own MASH or its characters, nor do I own any lines borrowed here that you might recognise.
> 
> AN: Hey all, thought it was time for me to try out a different trope, though it'll probably be a little longer between updates on this one. Feedback is, once again, much appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

She was thoroughly unimpressed. There she was looking forward to her new posting and then she’d arrived to find this. It was her first overseas assignment as a Major, her first time as head nurse and this was the first that would use choppers to evacuate wounded as standard, but the shine had started coming off as soon as she’d met her CO. If he was any more relaxed he’d be going backwards. Sure, he was nice enough, but nice didn’t count when you were in charge of a whole outfit and there were _school classrooms_ with tighter discipline than the 4077. Just thinking about it made her blood come back up from a simmer to a boil again. Henry Blake was an imposter, a civilian in officer’s clothes, a hack, and he had no respect for the army. She’d gone to him soon after arriving when some enlisted men had rolled their eyes when she demanded they salute her and he’d brushed her off. Margaret slammed her clothes into her foot locker with rage. She’d be damned if she wasn’t going to use any of her many high ranking contacts to force some change around here. She knew she could count on the Generals to be discreet about what their relationship had been. She just loved men with power, and good rank signified everything. Margaret could only hope the rest of the surgeons would show more discipline than Henry. She’d seen two of them roll in on a jeep before, all neat and tidy in their Class A’s. She’d introduce herself later.

Then she met them.

Margaret had walked into the mess tent with high hopes, only to find the blonde, curly haired one and the dark haired one with sparkly blue eyes sniggering over something. They were barely even in uniform, their fatigues weren’t buttoned and they _weren’t even wearing their bars._ Her nostrils flared in irritation; they hadn’t even saluted her! Then they opened their mouths.

“Hey gorgeous”, the blonde one said with his most charming smile.

Margaret sputtered, momentarily too aghast to speak, “That’s Major to you!”

“Hey Majorly gorgeous”, the dark haired one retorted with what could only be described as sarcastic smarm.

“Ugh!” Margaret spat. “You will refer to me as Major Houlihan or not at all!”  and with that she turned on her heel and stormed off.

The dark haired one imitated her disgust before turning to his blonde friend. “Well she seems like fun”

“She didn’t even ask our names” the blonde said to his friend with mock offense.

“No really, she does seem like fun. Fun to torment.” The dark haired man said with a grin

Margaret later found out their names: Captains Pierce and McIntyre. She’d try and threaten Colonel Blake into doing something about him, or she’d go to one of her long list of friendly Generals. She sighed to herself. There was nothing like a powerful man in uniform.

 

Hawkeye was still reeling from being drafted and dumped over here; he could barely believe that he’d been forced into a war. Coincidentally his two least favourite things were being ordered around and war, so this whole situation was the limit. He was grateful that he’d met Trapper McIntyre on the way up here, because he’d since met two massive army prigs. One was Major Frank Burns, one of his new bunk mates, and Hawkeye wasn’t sure that he’d ever instantly disliked anyone more. Burns was a self-righteous, blithering nitwit who gave off the impression of absolute inferiority. He was Hawkeye’s new favourite target.

The other was Major Houlihan, the small, blonde hurricane he’d met the day before, but she gave off an entirely different impression. In all honestly she intrigued him somewhat because she had the potential to go either way. He’d come across her a few times since, seen her giving orders, telling people to get out of the way, but when he’d once made eye contact briefly with her he’d seen frustration and uncertainty in with the rage and determination. It was almost like she was trying to order herself into submission so she felt less out of control. She was complex. He liked a good mystery. He made a note to himself to stop thinking of her as small, too, because the only thing diminutive about her was her height relative to his. She was a complete pain, what with sticking to the regular army clown routine like glue. She could be incredibly entertaining, too.  All you had to do was suggest something ludicrous or catch her off guard and she’d react spectacularly. The best so far had been when she was on a roll in OR, prowling around, ordering her nurses around and being unnecessarily harsh. “I have an announcement to make” he’d yelled, and all eyes had turned to him, “Major Houlihan and I are secretly married.” Her eyes had gone wide and the tops of her cheeks had turned red and then purple before she’d managed to yell back “That’s a lie!”.

“You’re a disgrace!” Frank was always just a bit too late in rushing to her ‘defence’. He obviously liked her, but was equally obviously a spineless twerp.

“Pierce” Henry had admonished weakly, “Will you stop tormenting the Major?”

“Never!” Hawkeye shouted with false cheer and a wink.

“Pierce” Henry said, this time as a warning, but he didn’t say any more.

 

A few days in and they have their first taste of what it truly means to be at war in Korea. An announcement comes in over the PA system calling all teams to the OR. The choppers fly in, the ambulances scream to a stop and suddenly it’s like being in a sea of blood.  All of the sessions before now pale in comparison. There are more bleeding people than any of them have ever seen, the choppers get people here that wouldn’t have made it before. As they do triage outside the OR Hawkeye is dimly aware of a voice yelling out orders above it all. He eventually realises it’s her again. He smiles slightly in spite of himself and shakes his head slightly. She never stopped giving orders; he wouldn’t be surprised if she gave them in her sleep. He smirked to himself; he’d be surprised if she _didn’t_ give them during other bedroom activities.

When triage was done they made their way in to the scrub room to prepare for what was to come. When he got there Hawkeye was dismayed to find Frank Burns flirting with the blonde Major and her _responding._ Hawkeye felt irritation flare inside him. If there was one thing he knew it was that Frank Burns did not deserve the attentions of such a woman, or hell, any woman. “Oh Margaret” he heard Frank simper. So that’s what her first name was; naturally then the next thing out of Hawkeye’s mouth was “Hey, Major Blondie!”

She squawked in outraged shock as she turned her glare on him. The effect of her having already donned her mask made the effect even more glorious.

Hawkeye continued, “Can’t you find someone better to flirt with than Major slime ball over there?”

She ripped her mask down in rage, “Go soak your head you pervert!”

Hawkeye made a kissy face at her which of course only turned her rage up a notch further.

Trapper, who’d seen the entire exchange, was guffawing loudly. “You’re living dangerously, Hawk.”

“Yeah well, so’s she” He responded lamely.

Hawkeye sneered under his mask; In the OR Margaret had of course paired herself with Frank. This was suddenly starting to feel like a competition, but whether he was competing for her attentions for himself or just making sure the regular army clowns would stop teaming up together he wasn't sure. The thought of competing for her attentions startled Hawkeye slightly. It was totally ridiculous. There was no way he could make a grab for her and salute at the same time.

“Are you okay, doctor?”

“Huh? Oh yes, fine, fine”. He’d keep that one to himself.

There were plenty of other nurses around willing to provide easier good times as distraction. He might try them out.

 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Time in the OR seemed to drag on and on. Margaret had never pulled such a long shift before, but she wasn't about to let it defeat her. There was blood all over the floor, and the stream of broken bodies seemed endless. It was so very different to her previous overseas assignments in Europe. She'd paired herself with Frank to try and avoid the increasingly infuriating and irritating Captain Pierce and his equally ridiculous sidekick, but working facing him at the next table wasn't enough to deter him completely. She still kept catching him watching her across the room from her position opposite Frank. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he seemed thoughtful rather than mocking unless he got caught. When caught he'd give her an exaggerated wink and include her in whichever stupid conversation he was in the middle of at the time.

"...but you see you'd be amazing covered in honey, Lieutenant Dish, wouldn't she Margaret?"  
Dammit, he'd managed to catch her eye again, and she was absolutely not on a first name basis with him. How dare he.  
"Or how about powdered sugar?" McIntyre chimed in.  
It took a lot of effort, but Margaret managed not to roll her eyes; she didn't want to give them the satisfaction. "Can't you two degenerates behave like professionals for once?" She snapped.  
"I dunno, Trap, are we professionals, degenerates, or professional degenerates?"   
He always had to have the last damn word. 

Frank of course took that as his cue to chime in. "You two are the biggest perverts I've ever met"  
Margaret sighed to herself. Points for trying, Frank.

Frank was turning out to be a disappointing surgeon. Margaret had aligned herself with him because of his discipline and because he seemed to love order just as much as she, but she was beginning to see that even that was mostly because he wanted her approval. She was willing to overlook this, she did, after all need at least one friend here, even someone to keep her bed warm, and he was more than willing to oblige. The rest of these cretins just wanted to make her life harder. She couldn't quite figure out Pierce, or Hawkeye as he kept insisting she call him. Never. He was all mock and deflection, but sometimes she caught him watching her so seriously, so thoughtfully, and even sometimes with something not unlike affection? She had no idea what that was about, or what he was seeing if she was reading him correctly. Men didn't look at her like that, men had never looked at her like that. Men came to her with their needs and she obliged, usually with the understanding that they would be good for a favour later on. It was a bit of fun, she didn't mind, but it wasn’t turning out well for finding anything more long term. She had been hoping things would turn out differently with Frank, but even with him she was sure he'd be far less interested if sex hadn’t been an immediate possibility.

 

It was sometime later in The Swamp and Hawkeye swore that he despised Frank more and more with every minute that passed. Having him and Margaret simpering over each other everywhere they went was making him want to tie Frank up and drop him into enemy territory. Trouble was that the man was so grating that the enemy would probably return him to sender.  
“Hey Hawk” Trapper broke his train of thought, “a buddy of mine just passed through I-Corp, and it turns out our Major Margaret has a nickname”  
“Oh yeah? Is it a good one?”  
“Well that depends what you think of ‘Hot Lips’”  
“Hot Lips!” Hysterical peals of laughter could be heard from the Swamp, “what did she do to earn that?” Hawkeye wheezed, trying to catch his breath.  
“She apparently has a thing for generals and, rumour has it that she’s very good at showing them a good time”  
More laughter exploded from them, causing passers-by to glance in their tent’s direction.  
“Oh that’s too good. I wonder if Frank knows?” Hawkeye wheezed.  
“Doubt it”  
“Well y’know I’ve been thinking it was about time we played a ‘congratulations on finding each other’ prank, so maybe the note will have to be made out to Hot Lips and Frank”.  
“And what sort of present shall we set up for the happy couple?”  
“I was thinking a good old tent collapse  
“Why Hawk, that’s possibly evil. It’s absolutely what Frank deserves. What about Hot Lips?”  
“Well, hopefully it’ll teach her to go around with pond life like that”  
“Either that or she’ll finally kill you”  
“Well there is always that. Maybe she’ll hurt me so badly I’ll get to go home.”  
“You’re crazy”  
“Takes one to know one”  
“You always have to have the last word”  
“No I don’t”

Margaret was in her tent getting ready for her first date with Frank. She’d seen Radar hovering around nearby and Pierce and McIntyre had been a little bit too friendly in the mess tent just before. They wouldn’t dare try anything would they? She’d damn well spit roast them if they did. It felt so nice to have a reason to dress in something other than olive drab or taupe; blue was her choice for this evening. She had just finished brushing out her hair when there was a knock on the door. “Frank?”   
“Margaret, dearest, let me in before someone sees”  
“But Frank, you’re early, I haven’t finished getting ready”  
“You’re always beautiful to me, Margaret”  
“Oh fine, come in, it’s late anyway”  
He stepped through the door and rushed to her side, practically crying with adoration  
“Margaret”, he simpered  
“Frank”, she said, mimicking his tone. That was always a sure fire way to keep a man happy.  
“Now!” They heard yelled outside as their world went dark.   
“Frank!” groaned Margaret.  
“Margaret!” Frank whimpered pathetically.

Back in the Swamp two men lay on their bunks with identical mischievous grins.  
“Goodnight Trap”  
“Night, Hawk”.  
They’d forgotten the note, but it didn’t matter. Margaret was sure to come yelling tomorrow.  
Time to sleep to maintain ‘plausible’ deniability.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi all, sorry that this is taking a little bit longer than usual! Life is a bit busier than it was. Hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Hawkeye was walking leisurely out of the Swamp when he saw her charging towards him. Excellent, his prank had obviously had an effect.

“You insolent, childish, perverted scum, I oughta have you court martialled…”

“Heya Hot Lips”

Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened; no sound came out. Then she snapped her mouth shut and pressed her lips into a thin line before stomping her feet.

Hawkeye looked down at her feet and then back at her face. This was an even better reaction than he’d been hoping for. This was even better than the reaction he’d imagined he might get when he’d decided that announcing she was pregnant with his baby would be a good idea for the next time they were in OR.

Her chest was heaving and the air was so thick with tension that a knife would have trouble cutting it. The camp seemed to hold its collective breath, waiting to see how Margaret would end his life.

The pair stared at each other, momentarily lost in each other’s eyes until neither of them could stand it anymore. Somewhere along the line the tension that had been between them since day one had gotten a whole lot more sexual. Their lips crashed together and she nibbled on his, begging for entrance. Figures that she’d take the lead. He took the opportunity to explore her mouth with his tongue. Margaret absently wondered if they were going to catch fire. Her arms wound around his neck while his hands travelled from their position on her waist down to squeeze her glorious behind. She moaned into his mouth and he smirked. That was when she bit his lip hard. He gasped before breaking the kiss, looking at her agape. She smirked back at him, watching his face split into a smile before she turned and quickly fled the scene. She was satisfied that he’d need a cold shower, but now she had to figure out what to do with herself.

 

“Hey Hawk!” Trapper called from the doorway of the Swamp, “What happened to you?” he asked suddenly having noticed Hawkeye’s bleeding lip.

“Oh, nothing; had a run in with a nurse” he said aiming for and not quite hitting nonchalance.

“Had to be some nurse because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that had been done by _teeth_ , and don’t think I didn’t see Hot Lips hurrying away from you. What did you do to her?”

“What did _I_ do to _her?_ She attacked me!”

Trapper didn’t look like he quite believed him.

 “You really are trying to get yourself killed”.

He wasn’t really quite sure what he was doing anymore, but death by Margaret didn’t seem like a bad way to go. He sat, stunned, and pondered that that kiss had put him flat on his ass in a way that no other nurse here had managed. He tried to tell himself it was just because his lip had teeth marks in it, but somewhere deeper he knew that wasn’t it. He knew he was seriously at risk of actually _liking_ Hot Lips. He made a face as he squashed that thought back down where it belonged.

“What’s that look for?”

“Nothing”

Trapper’s face in turn said that he didn’t believe him.

 

Margaret, meanwhile, was leaning on the inside of her tent door, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened and, more importantly, how she had let it happen. It wasn’t just that. It was that it had been amazing and that part of her wanted to go and find him again, drag him back to her tent and demand that he finished the job. This of course meant that she absolutely had to pretend that nothing had happened and that he had no effect on her at all. She checked the clock on her wall and noticed that it was time for post op duty. She did her best to compose herself and walked out into the compound.

Frank gasped, “Margaret, you’re late! Is that _blood_ on your face? What happened? My poor darling…”

Oh, crap. She’d forgotten he’d been on duty. She felt like she’d momentarily forgotten most things.

“Oh hi Frank. I must have cut my finger, rubbed my face and not noticed” she said, almost too casually.

Frank’s beady eyes looked down at her hand and up again. He didn’t see anything, but why would she lie? “Here, let me clean your face for you”.

Margaret bristled slightly. She hated looking unprofessional in front of the patients and any nurses that might be around. Her relationship with Frank was supposed to be a secret. “ _Well why did you go and kiss Hawkeye in broad daylight in the middle of the compound then?”_ hissed a nasty little voice inside her head. It was only a matter of time before that juicy little bit of gossip found its way to Frank.

 

Over at the Swamp Frank returned from his shift about the same time as Radar was coming around with the mail.

 

“Letter from your wife, sir”

 _“Wife?”_ exclaimed Trapper “Does Hot Lips know about that?”

“Are you talking about Margaret? You disrespectful cretin!”

“Didn’t you know, that’s her actual nickname”

“You’re lying!”

“Hey, you’re the one who has a mistress and a wife”

“ _You’re_ married and _you_ sleep with nurses”

“Yeah, but I don't have a dedicated mistress, I share it around”

Frank’s eyes fell on Hawkeye having suddenly noticed him. Hawkeye had been trying to stay out of it. Frank’s eyes narrowed “What happened to your lip?”

“I slammed it in a door, Frank” He said with the bored indifference that he found suited almost everything to do with Frank.

“Ha, you’re more of an idiot than I thought!”

Trapper and Hawkeye shared a look.

“What? What's that about?”

Not wanting to have this conversation, Hawkeye quickly deflected, “Hey Frank, are you gonna tell Hot Lips about your wife or should we?”

“You wouldn't _dare!”_

“Oh really?”

“And her name is _Margaret.”_

“So Frank, are her lips really hot?” Trapper couldn’t help himself, he was enjoying both teasing Frank and the compromising situation that his friend had gotten himself into.

Hawkeye shot him a dirty look, and Frank noticed. Frank also noticed that though the question was being directed at him, Trapper was looking at Hawkeye. Frank always did choose the most inconvenient times to be observant.

Frank gasped, eyes widening, “Pierce, what did you do to her!”

“Oh gee, Trap, thanks for that.”

 

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as Frank makes the connection between Pierce’s damaged lip and Margaret’s slightly bloodied face he starts pushing for a court martial but is perplexed when she says no. He's also not sure why she lied about how the blood got there when it's obvious that Pierce tried to have his way with her and she defended herself. He decides she's probably just embarrassed because the alternative is too awful for him to contemplate.  Frank instead tells anyone who'll listen what Pierce did to Margaret; he wants everyone to know what an _animal_ that man is. He doesn’t know that Margaret agrees with the label of ‘animal’ for Pierce, she just means it differently.

Margaret goes along with it because it’s more comfortable than the truth. She agrees with Frank that she’s embarrassed about it and doesn’t want any more people to know, but really it’s because she hasn’t figured out how she feels about it yet. That, and if she wasn’t the one to make the first move, she definitely moved at the same speed as Pierce. This disconcerts her, because last time she checked she despised him. But she’s not going to be analysing it any further. She doesn’t know if she’ll like the truth – that she does, at the very least, have sexual feelings for a man of lower rank, which is bad enough even without taking into account the way he behaves. Worst case scenario is that it happens again, and then possibly again if they have too little self-control, and then they fall in love or something horrific like that. Her father would be very unhappy with her; he might even disown her. She’s worked too hard to let the lid off this potentially destructive force _no matter how satisfying it might be._ She mentally slaps herself.

She will launch full scale denial.

Another reason she doesn’t want Frank to try and Court Martial Pierce is because she overheard a stunned Radar telling Henry what he’d just witnessed in the compound, and he’d relayed it as a mutual mauling. She’d been on her way back from post-op when she heard it. She stopped in her tracks and ducked behind a parked jeep. Oh the indignity. She swore she was better than this, but with what she’d been hiding behind with Frank lately you’d never know it.

“Radar, can you get me the…Radar, are you okay?”

Henry peered at him, perplexed. This was the first time the boy hadn’t pre-empted what he was doing to say.

“Uh, sir? You’ll never believe what I saw”

“What is it, Radar?”

“Major Houlihan and Captain Pierce were kissing in the middle of the compound.”

Henry’s brow furrowed. “Radar, have you been in my liquor cabinet again?”

“I’ve never been in your liquor cabinet, sir”

“Well then what did you see?”

“Major Houlihan was yelling at Captain Pierce when all of a sudden they kind of went at each other and started kissing; he grabbed her backside and everything! Then she, uh, sort of bit him and walked off.”

Henry stood, stunned. One thing was also certain in his mind: If he ever had to go near that woman for any reason he would be demanding combat pay. “Uh, well, do you think I need to do anything about this…incident?”

“No sir, but I was thinking of starting up a betting pool betting on how long it will take them to get together.”

“How long?  You don’t think ‘if’ might be better?”

“No sir”

“Well okay then, put me down for twenty bucks for it taking a 6 months and, as a bonus, it’ll only last 24 hours.”

“Yes sir.” Radar pauses. “You’ve got no chance, sir.”

“Well what did you bet then?”

“Three weeks, and if we’re going to do time it lasts, as long as the war.”

It takes all of Margaret’s self-restraint not to go over to where they were standing and scream the men a new one. The little twerp didn’t even have the decency to make the pool _if_ they got together, and Henry was their CO, he should be above this! She’s surprised by the bubble rising in her belly that he thought she and Pierce were capable of lasting the war. There it was, some slightly uncomfortable truth revealing itself despite her efforts.

 

Hawkeye sits in the mess prodding at the lumps on his tray. Margaret’s avoiding him. He shouldn’t mind; it means she’s not snapping at his heels or making disapproving noises wherever he goes, but he finds himself missing it. He sees her once or twice in the mess tent with Frank, but the only reason he knows she knows he’s there is because she starts touching Frank more whenever he looks over. It makes his blood boil. He tells himself again that it’s not because he wants her but because he hates Frank, but it’s becoming harder and harder even for himself to believe. Pity, because that’s more palatable than the truth.

Trapper hasn’t believed any Major related excuses since he’d come back with his battle scar. He’s tried everything from “I’m just trying to do the camp some good, she’ll be more relaxed after some I show her a good time” to “Margaret who?”. They’ve just been met with an “Uhuh” and a knowing smirk.

Hawkeye touches his lip absent mindedly, too deep in thought to notice some of the looks he’s getting across the tables. He’s been trying to distract himself by chasing regular garden variety nurses but lately they all just laugh or brush him off. Whether it’s because they fear crossing their fearsome leader or because they believe the rumour that he tried to grab the Major against her will and have his way with her he’s not sure, but it all adds to his frustrations. One had even said she’d witnessed the whole so-called ‘incident’ and that it wasn’t worth her time competing with what she’d seen.

He forces himself to think about what his next move should be. He imagines going to try and talk to her, but that would mean going to her tent and he doubts she’d let him in. Yelling at her through the door somehow just doesn’t have the same effect. He knows she doesn’t like him, sometimes with good reason, and though he’s slowly admitting to himself that he has feelings for her he’s not sure there’s a point to having them. She might find him attractive, but he was certain there was no way she’d consider him partner material. He’s also struggling to figure out why he cares: He’s barely seen any evidence than she’s a human being. She’s so uptight and so _regulatory,_ it’s revolting, but there’s obviously a lot of passion that she’s hiding in there. He also won’t deny that she’s attractive. He needs to find a way to get her to let her hair down.

“Hey Trap,” he says, addressing his breakfast companion who’s been sitting silently next to him the entire time, “Whaddya think of trying to get Hot Lips drunk?”

Trapper merely shakes his head and says “You’re crazy.” He learned very quickly that there’s no point getting involved in this.

 

It’s after midnight and Hawkeye has just relieved Spearchucker on Post Op duty. He’s been noticing that he’s never rostered on for post op duties at the same time as Margaret. It’s obviously intentional; she’s in charge of the nurse’s work roster. He checks the time and then heads off to find out who he’s meant to be working with tonight because whoever it is is late. He’s halfway across the room when Margaret walks in.

“What are you doing here, I thought you were trying not to be on the same planet as me?”

“Baker called in sick and it’s not fair on any of the others for them to have to work an extra shift” She says without looking at him.

It was going to be an interesting night.

 

 

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

It’s rare to have her around without Frank, but it’s even rarer to be near her with no one but sleeping patients for company. For the first time he sees a little of the vulnerability that he'd been suspecting existed. She's still keeping up her Major Houlihan façade but it’s wearing thin. He decides against giving her a hard time when he sees the wariness and resignation in her eyes.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to bite you”

She looks at him shocked, her mouth opening for a tirade.

Poor choice of words.

He holds his hand up to stop her, “What I mean is, you don’t have to be afraid of me, I’m not going to do anything to you”.

“Do anything to me? I would never let you do anything to me”

“Look, at some point we should probably address what happened out there…”

“Happened? Nothing happened, Captain, we’re professional acquaintances”

“But you were…never mind. For a second there I was worried that I might actually like you”

She was dumbstruck.

“How dare you!” She yelled after recovering, but her rebuke was weak and was just her swinging wildly. He’d hit a nerve.

“Shh, Margaret, we don’t want to wake the patients.” He should probably stop using his patronising voice. “Look, we’re both good professionals; some would even say that we work well together, so let’s just be nice to each other so we can get through this and get out of here”

She deflated a little. “Fine”

“Fine” he repeated because he could.

For the rest of the night she’s quiet, muted. He was sure there had to be some serious whirring going on in that blonde head, but you wouldn't know it to look at her.

He’s also much quieter than normal, there’s no one to perform for, no pretence to be upheld, and he’s not in the mood for jokes. This whole situation is too tense for jokes. He finds himself glancing over at her a little bit too often but she makes sure she’s always looking somewhere else.

 

Margaret wanted nothing more than for this shift to be over; she was holding everything in so tightly that she just was going to need to go somewhere to explode, or maybe scream or yell at someone, break something, then possibly get outrageously drunk. No one in this camp had seen her drunk yet, it would be completely unprofessional. She snorts causing Hawkeye to look up from the chart he’s reading and she meets his gaze with a raised eyebrow challenge that he doesn’t understand: getting drunk would pale in comparison to what she wants to do to the camp’s leading insubordinate - _and what a few people already saw you do._ She's conveniently forgetting that.  She checks the time for the third time in as many minutes, and rolls her eyes: still 3 hours to go. Since this shift had started time seemed to expand and stretch on infinitely.

She gets up again to go and check on the patients even though it's only been 10 minutes since she last did it and none of the patients are having any complications. She’s not sure if she can take much more of this before she’ll snap and have to start talking to him, or yelling at him...or worse. He’s different tonight; she’s never seen Pierce so quiet for so long. Sure his ego is still present, though subdued, but he’s not even _trying_ to get a rise out of her. She wonders if maybe she’s underestimated him; perhaps there’s a man capable of being serious under all those quips and reprehensible behaviour. If she wasn’t trying to studiously ignore him she might be tempted to try and get a rise out of him for a change. Margaret chances a look over at him and he catches her eye across the room and gives her a small smile. Why does that feel good? _You despise the man, he’s an arrogant, skirt chasing troublemaker._

“Coffee?” He asks, holding up a mug for her. Involuntarily her smile mirrors his and she replaces the chart she’s been reading, making her way over to him.

His hand brushes hers as she takes the mug, causing her to jump at the sensation. His eyes snap to hers having not missed the reaction, her face flushes red, the expression a picture of anguished frustration. Of all the people in the camp to have this reaction to, why _him?_ Why not militarily disciplined, morally upstanding, not a lower rank than her, Frank Burns? He was a perfect choice on paper; he could help her get this camp in order _and_ keep her warm at night. Pierce was giving in to the chaos, approving of his antics by proxy of approving of him. It _wouldn’t_ happen. It _shouldn’t_ happen. Her vehemence was downgrading itself already. She briefly wondered if it would help if she gave herself an order. Probably not.

She’s about to thank him for the coffee when they're interrupted by the sound of a jeep entering the compound.

Hawkeye frowns slightly, “Are we expecting anyone?”

“Not that I know of” Margaret gets up and goes outside to check, before two men come hurrying in with a young man on a stretcher. She follows them back into post-op. “Corporal Eric Chalmers, superficial shrapnel wound to the leg, possible fracture”

“Alright, get him into the OR, scrub up”

“Should I wake anybody else?”

“Nah, let them sleep. We’ll give him a local, we should be fine with just us.”

“Am I gonna be okay, doc?”

“You'll be fine, Chalmers. You'll be good as new before you know it, just relax.”

And so they work, first removing the shrapnel from the boy’s leg before sewing him up and setting the leg. It’s a relatively easy operation, but they fall into an easy rhythm which surprises both of them. Margaret had assumed that Pierce was average at best, especially given the amount of time in the OR he spent joking with McIntyre, flirting with the nurses making, inappropriate comments, singing, and tormenting Frank and herself. This, however, could not be further from the truth. He’s incredibly delicate with his work, deft fingers moving quickly to remove the shrapnel and sew the poor man up. She finds herself looking forward to working with him on more challenging cases, because a man that can impress her whilst working on a moderately wounded leg is an impressive man indeed, but she's not about to tell him that. She’ll try not to underestimate him again.

“Great work, Major” he says, blue eyes twinkling.

“You too, doctor” she says before rewarding him with a smile that glitters even in the dim lighting of the OR now that the surgical light is off.

Hawkeye marvels at how different she looks when she smiles. It's so very different to when her face is set in the hardened mask of Major Houlihan. He gets lost looking at her for a moment. “Right, let’s do this, shall we?”

They quickly get their patient settled into post op before heading to the scrub room to get rid of their gloves and aprons.

The tension quickly ratchets up a notch as they take off the offending articles, both acutely aware of just how easily they could continue taking off articles of clothing for a completely different result. Her hair is askew when she takes off her cap and he can’t resist reaching out to brush a blonde tendril away from her face. Her breath hitches as his hand brushes against her cheek. Those beautiful, skilful hands. Somehow they’ve moved closer to each other. It would be so easy to just close the gap between them, to do what her body is screaming at her to do, but she knows that once she does she won’t be able to stop, she won’t be able to go back. _Oh to hell with it,_ a voice urges somewhere in her head. But before anything can happen Hawkeye kisses her on the cheek and leaves to go back to post-op. _Wimp._ But she could just as easily apply that to herself.

Margaret doesn’t know if she’s more relieved or disappointed.

They’re dangerous when they’re alone.

 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea whether they would have done that kind of procedure with just two people, but for the purposes of this story let's just pretend they do!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Wheeee, chapter 6! This one starts working in the Pilot, so there are some chunks of dialogue from that episode in here. We’re on the home stretch now; just a chapter or two to go. Please read and review, I’d love to know if you love it, like it, dislike it. It feels less like me silently archiving fic online that way :)

It’s the next day, and it takes Hawkeye very little time to realise that Margaret is avoiding him again. He’s regretting having let her off the hook the night before. This was all made worse by the fact that Frank had just come back to the Swamp from the direction of Margaret’s tent with a smile that spoke of a very specific kind of satisfaction. This combined with the fact that she’d made sure that Hawkeye had seen her rubbing herself up against Frank in the mess tent at lunch was bring his blood up to a slow simmer.

Trapper had noticed, “What’s eating you, Hawk?”

“What’s eating him is that he’s a massive buttinski!” Frank jumped in before he could reply.

“Hey Frank, how about you go read your bible and see if it says anything in there about surgical incompetence”

“Why you little…” It had the desired effect and Frank left with a bang.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out! Now where were we, oh yeah, whatsamatter?”

“Nothing.” He really didn’t want to get into this.

“Come on, you’ve got a face like someone who’s spent all day eating in the mess”

There was a moment’s silence before Hawkeye couldn’t hold it in any longer. “What’s so good about him anyway?”

“Who?”

“Major Malpractice”

“Oh I see, we’re talking about your little thing with Hot Lips”

“There is no ‘thing’ with Hot Lips”

“Coulda fooled me”

“I just wish she’d stop rubbing her thing with Frank in my face. She was practically begging me to kiss her last night.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Wanted it to be on her terms, didn’t want her to run away... It’s nothing, Okay?”

“If you say so. Want a martini?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

There's a pause as they take a sip

“So...”

“So?”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“I was thinking I might dial up my powers of persuasion on Lieutenant Dish”

“Ah Lieutenant Dish...”

“...so much body that it could be continued on the next girl”

“And this is going to help with Hot Lips how?”

“Well it'll give me something to do”

“And piss her off”

“And hopefully piss her off”

  
  


Distance was proving to be just the thing Margaret needed to regain some resolve. She didn’t need him, she needed the army, the army way of life, the discipline, and she could have her needs slightly less satisfyingly met by Frank. She was playing a dangerous game and she knew it. Even her famous Houlihan denial skills were being tested. She made sure she saw her touching Frank as many times as possible. It was almost like she was using him as a talisman, a distraction from her otherwise wandering wants and senses. But when not absolutely necessary, she was going to stay as far away from Pierce as possible; it was back to that old game. This all going fabulously well until she spies him making a move on Lieutenant Schneider, or “Dish” as those animals liked to call her. Schneider isn’t exactly welcoming Hawkeye’s advances, but her protests are weak as he kisses his way up her arm.  _ Why that dirty, rotten...  _ She’s livid, and has to remind herself that she can’t have it both ways. Either she has a claim on him, in which case he’d better get his hands off that little, blonde trollop, or there’s no claim, nothing to see here, and he can...screw whom he pleases. She gulps down the bitterness at the thought and forces herself into going with the latter. There has never been a man she couldn’t take or leave, and she was determined this would be no different. No worthy man of rank, no Major, no Colonel, no  _ General  _ had ever had a hold on Margaret Houlihan’s heart, and there was no way a Captain could be worth as much as any of them. Hawkeye smirks at her and waves in her direction. She’s gotta get out of here, and fast. She goes off to see what Frank is up to. Maybe they can read the bible or her new copy of the Staff Officer’s Field Manual or something together.  Anything is better than this.

  
  


Hawkeye and Trapper aren’t far into hitting golf balls into the mine field when the choppers come again. Surgery is as bloody as ever, and tensions between Hawkeye, Frank and Margaret are high. Hawkeye’s resolve gets close to snapping when Margaret stands a little too close to him as she comes over to mop his brow. “Everything under control?” She asks, but he’s pretty sure she’s just here to check up on him and Dish. She’s acting like she thinks he didn’t see her reaction earlier when he was trying it on with Dish, and then again when she realises he’s working (and flirting) with Dish this session. The Major is far more transparent than she thinks she is.

“Uh yeah, fine, but if you don’t move I’ll have to cut around your B-cups”

That sends her packing.

He then nearly completely loses it when Frank starts bullying Ginger. It’s not enough that he’s an awful surgeon and that he’s won over Margaret,  but he’s a bully as well. 

“I don’t want a Kelly clamp, Lieutenant!”

“But that’s what you asked for”

“Well give me what I want, not what I asked for!”

Hawkeye can’t hold his tongue any longer, “Hey Ginger, put a clamp on his mouth! You can show us all your diploma later, Frank”

“That’s enough,  _ Captain” _

“Oh, clever.”

  
  


Later outside the OR Frank tries tell him off and then stand up for Margaret. It’s petty point scoring and his attempts are pathetic. 

“Pierce! Hold on!” Hawkeye rolls his eyes,  _ oh here we go. _

“Lay off, Frank, I just had a hard day at the office.”

“Your conduct in there was not only unbecoming in an officer, it was equally reprehensible as a medical man!”

Margaret meanwhile has caught up to them and is nodding supportively next to Frank. Of all the insufferable...

“Frank, I happen to be an officer only because I foolishly opened an invitation from President Truman to come to this costume party. As for my ability as a doctor, if you question that I’m afraid I’ll just have to challenge you to a duel.”

Trapper and the nurse he’s managed to bag have now joined them. “Swords or pistols?”

“I was thinking of specimen bottles at 20 paces.” Trappers nurse  rolls her eyes and decides to make a break for it.

“There are ladies present” Frank briefly glances at Margaret.

Hawkeye and Trapper pretend to look around, confused, until making a show of noticing Margaret. This was a sure fire way to irritate her:

“Sorry, baby”

“That’s “Major” to you” she stomped in irritation

She apparently hadn’t learned yet.

“Sorry Major Baby.” There was fire in her eyes now

“You’re both a disgrace to this outfit”

“Oh come on, Frank, we’ve all had 12 straight hours of meatball surgery in there. My brain is sending me urgent rest telegrams. You must be tired too, after all that malpractice you put in.”

Margaret stomps again. It’s like an angry tick. An amusing angry tick.

“You’re dismissed”

“Thanks, mother.” Hawkeye drawls at her before retreating.

Screw her, and screw Frank, but in Frank’s case only if it involved a jeep, running him over and no actual screwing.

 

  
TBC


	7. Chapter 7

When Trapper and Hawkeye get back to their tent  Ho-Jon has martini’s ready and Radar has mail for them. Trapper has a letter from his wife and Hawkeye, a letter from his former college. Ho-Jon was a Korean houseboy they’d hired to work around the Swamp, however it was only a matter of time before the draft board would come knocking and he’d get forced to fight in this mess. Hawkeye had sent a letter to his college soon after meeting Ho-Jon in the hope of getting him out of this hell. Miraculously the dean of Hawkeye’s former alma mater writes back and says Ho-Jon is in as long as he could cover the tuition fee. Hawkeye tells the good news to Ho-Jon who runs off to tell his family, but he’s purposely omitted the part about the money as there’s no way a poor, Korean farming family will be able to afford that.

Once Ho-Jon is gone Trapper opens his mouth first, “Where are we gonna get $1000?”

“It’s more like $2000, y’know, with transportation and clothing and everything.”

“He can stay with my dad, so there’s no problem there.”

“Maybe we could sell Spearchucker while he’s asleep”

“There must be something we can sell. What does everybody want here? What do all these people want more than anything else?”

They come up with a plan to sell tickets to an all you can drink event with a weekend pass for two to Tokyo with the company of a nurse.

“You wanna raffle off a nurse?”

“Is that what I said?”

They head off to run their scheme past Henry.

“Men.” he greets them

“How are you, Henry?” they say one after the other.

Unease creeps across Henry’s face. “That’s not what you guys came to ask. I mean the last thing you wanna know when you say “How are you” is how am I.”

Hawkeye starts laying out his plan “All right, Henry, let’s skip the gristle and get right down to the bone.” He shows Henry the letter and continues, “Now, what we want from you is two weekend passes so we can raise this tuition. What we wanna do is raffle them off along with the company of one of our nurses whose heart and everything else is in the right place.”

“Seems like a good enough cause.” Henry pauses, face falling slightly, “Why don’t I trust you guys?”

“Cos we’re not trustworthy”, Trapper chimes in with a grin.

“Yeah, maybe that’s it. How do I know you’re on the level? Which nurse have you conned into doing this?”

“Hot Lips” smirks Hawkeye. If only it were true, he’d do anything to win that prize.

“Hot Lips?” Henry’s confused.

“Major Houlihan” volunteers Trapper.

“You have not!” Henry declares before quietly adding “Last time I checked no one in this camp was a General.” Trapper snorts.

“Fine. There can be only one choice. A girl with a face that doesn’t quit, a girl with so much body that she should be continued on to the next girl. Lieutenant Dish”

“Lieutenant Dish’ll never agree to this” says Henry.

“Oh but she will. Inaccessible as she is to everyone else in this outfit, she’s putty in the hands of a master.”

Before Henry can stop himself more words fall out of his mouth “And you think you’re a master? Last I checked you couldn’t get Dish _or_ Houlihan.” Henry’s eyes widen slightly after realising what he’s just said.

“Houlihan? Who says I’m trying to get Houlihan? She’s way too regular army.” Pierce says, the picture of innocence.

Trapper and Henry each shoot him a disbelieving look.

“It’ll be fine, leave it with me.”

Fine. That’s what Henry was worried about.

It takes Hawkeye a few days to convince Dish to go away with the winner of this little shindig. She narrows her eyes and tells him she doesn’t believe that it won’t be with him, but she grudgingly agrees anyway. She’s not the putty in his hands he was proclaiming earlier, but she’s infinitely easier than his blonde, prickly Major. _The_ blonde, prickly Major.

It’s a few days later and they’ve sold some tickets but they’re still desperately short of their target. He chucks in $10 for the winning ticket, he has a brilliant idea that will get Dish out of _actually_  having to go away with the winner. Hawkeye decides it’s worth selling Frank a ticket while he’s out doing whatever the hell he’s doing, but he of course returns and is none too pleased to find Hawkeye poking around in his things.

“What are you doing there!”

“Just wanted to borrow your bible, Frank.”

“Since when are _you_ interested in the Bible?”

Frank’s having none of it, and things degenerate quickly until Frank is on the other side of the tent, holding Trapper’s still ransom. They move towards him and Frank bends his knees threateningly. The still sloshes. He makes a break for it, but Hawkeye and Trapper quickly surround him. With no way out Frank throws the still down on the floor where it shatters.

Frank starts to weasel, “Oh. Um, listen guys, I didn’t know it was gonna break”

“Oh that’s okay” Hawkeye says, looking for something to use on Frank. Trapper joins in “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” “Don’t give it another thought.”

They reach the duffle bag at the same time, throwing it over Frank’s head before pushing a yelling Frank out into the compound, leaving him stumbling over rocks.

 _Go on, go run straight back to Margaret. She’s all the spine you have._ Hawkeye thinks bitterly, knowing that’s exactly what Frank will do. Instead he quips “I thought he’d never leave.”

The next thing they know they're back in Henry’s office.

“Henry, you have no idea what it’s like to share a tent with a guy who thinks he’s all 12 disciples.”

Henry’s not amused, “Well be that as it may, if I don’t do something about this Frank’ll report it to Hammond and he’ll put my butt into traction..And get your feet off my desk! So I’m withdrawing the weekend passes, you can forget about the party and raffle business tomorrow.”

Trapper and Hawkeye start howling in protest.

“Oh Henry that’s pretty regular army of you, isn’t it?” Trapper yells, outraged.

“It’s just as well. I have to go down and see Hammond in Seoul for a few days and I wasn’t any too happy about the party taking place in my absence.”

Hawkeye and Trapper look at each other knowingly. That could mean only one thing: a Major Frank Burns would be in charge. Easy.

“Are you sure it’s Frank who’ll report it to Hammond, or that other Major we have, you know, the blonde one?” Hawkeye spits out. He hates Frank, he hates everything regular army, and he hates whatever isn’t going on with Margaret. Henry doesn’t answer him.

The next day they’re on the chopper pad as Henry and his favourite squeeze leave for Seoul along with Margaret and Father Mulcahy. Hawkeye’s not sure why Margaret is there given how she feels about Henry, but she’s probably just celebrating the fact that her ickle dear Frankie will be in charge. She’s certainly making sure she’s nowhere near Hawkeye. Radar sidles up to Hawkeye and hands him an envelope. “What’s this?”

“Weekend passes for the raffle”

The little fink. He could get Henry to sign anything.

Hawkeye throws a rock at the PA system as it finishes announcing the wishes and orders if their new overlord and saviour, Frank Burns. His ire concerning that man is rising and doesn’t seem to be coming down. Margaret, of course, is none too impressed when he throws it even though she’d ordered him not to in her best Major voice. She shoots him an incredibly filthy look. He’ll take it. It’s more acknowledgement than he’s been getting from her lately. His disgust with Frank’s existence makes it easy to do what they’re about to do next.

  


They’re up to something, Margaret knows Pierce and McIntyre are up to something, and if they’re not yet, they soon will be up to something. Her eyes narrow just thinking about them. She was glad Henry the useless had actually put his foot down this time, though she knew it would only postpone the inevitable calling her old “friend”, General Hammond to come and sort this mess out. He had been quite a useful “friend” to have at Fort Benning, excellent for getting things that she’d needed. Lo and behold, not long before the party was supposed to take place Frank disappears. She can’t prove they’ve done anything to him, but she _knows_ it was them. She’s suddenly very glad she chose Frank over Pierce and shudders at the thought of how foolish she would have looked if she was associated with him. As the afternoon wears on she searches for Frank high and low but finds no trace of him. All of his things are still in the Swamp, he’s not in the office and there’s no note. In the evening she becomes a little more frantic.

“Frank” She calls “Frank?”

As she’s searching she hears the music start up and those _imbeciles_ start up that party they’re not supposed to be having. The rest of the camp must have been in on it because there they all are, filing into the tent, all out of uniform. Margaret’s furious. She barges into the heaving mess tent to find Pierce and scowls when she sees him dancing with Lieutenant _“Dish”_.

“Excuse me” she says, authoritatively barging past couples dancing,  “Excuse me...Father” she pauses for a brief smile to the Priest before pushing past him too. She eventually comes to a halt in front of her target. “Captain Pierce” she greets him, her voice is dripping with venom

He replies with the least care he can muster, “Oh sorry, honey, my dance card’s all full.” he says, turning away from her. Dish certainly seems to be enjoying herself. Furiously Margaret runs around to the direction Pierce is now facing.

“Where is he?” she demands.

“Who?”

“You know very well who. Major burns- he’s been missing for hours”

“And why do you care?” He looks at her challengingly. Daring her to say something - anything about her relationship with Frank or himself, “Oh I thought you’d heard.”

“Heard what?”

“Frank’s gone over to the enemy.” Her mouth presses into a thin line. “They offered him $100 more a week and a royalty on bedpans.”

Her eyes narrow and she clenches her teeth so hard you could almost hear it. She will never have a pleasant thought about Benjamin Franklin Pierce again. “When I find him, you’ll be under arrest” she spits.

He goes on to tell her that he doesn’t care, that he’s indispensable. His arrogance is breathtaking.

She makes the mistake of replying with “You tell that to Major Burns”

He decides to break out the big guns, “Look, Hot Lips” She stamps her feet and Hawkeye and Dish look her up and down with vaguely amused expressions.

Hawkeye tells her to quit worrying and grab herself a partner for a “Standing physical”. Never mind the fact that the only person here she’s remotely interested in doing that to is the one she’d most like to murder right now. She can feel her body getting rigid with frustration. The sooner she has Pierce dealt with and shipped out of her life, the better.

Margaret excuses herself back out of the tent.

Trapper sidles up to Hawkeye and says “You will live dangerously”

“What can _she_ do to us?” but Hawkeye knows she’s capable of doing quite a bit of damage. She can do anything when she puts her mind to it. With her mixture of ferociously determination and friendly Generals. He knows that he’s likely in deep trouble. That, and he’s probably just blown any remaining chance of anything romantic happening with her.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Margaret’s already sitting in Colonel Blake’s chair by the time Hawkeye has that thought about having blown his chances, and a second later she’s on the phone to General Hammond in Seoul. What's the point of having contacts in high places if you don't use them? Someone had to stop those clowns and it looked like it was going to have to be her. It certainly wasn't going to be Blake, or even Frank. She quickly and efficiently tells the General all about the two problem Captains, the party, and how this whole place has gone to hell. Margaret stops herself from directly mentioning Colonel Blake and his ineptitude, but makes sure it’s heavily implied. The satisfaction and relief she feels when General Hammond says he’ll be right there is enough to lighten her load for a moment, but then she remembers that she still can’t find Frank. While she waits for the General’s arrival she heads off to check on the patients in post-op, because she wouldn’t put it past all the idiots at the party to have forgotten their duties and responsibilities.

She reads the chart of the first patient and then goes off the get the syringe of sedative. As she lifts pulls the patient’s trousers down slightly to get at his rump she stops short. She’d recognise that birth mark anywhere. She shines her torch on his face just to make sure. “Frank!”. There’s not much time, as she’s scrabbling around in the dark to find exchange the syringe in her hand for something to reverse Frank’s sedation she hears a chopper land, it has to be the one carrying General Hammond. She clears Frank’s face hurriedly, injects him, gets him on his feet and pulls him towards the Mess tent.

Margaret walks in as General Hamilton is dressing down Pierce. Serves him right. Her ire is raised further when she hears Pierce call out “The mummy strikes!” in a voice imitating some film. The man is outrageous!

“Hamilton” She cries out in relief when she sees him.

“Hot Lips” He cries back. 

Shit. That’s embarrassing. Her face falls slightly and Pierce and Mcintyre laugh.

Cutting them off quickly she yells “These two, They’re ruining the war for all of us!” 

Hawkeye shoots her a slightly incredulous look. She knows she’s just made a ridiculous statement but doesn’t care; it’s how she feels. She’s lost in angry turmoil and they’re all lucky she hasn’t exploded yet. Of course just General Hamilton is getting into the good part about court martialing more wounded come.

Then comes the kicker: Those two idiots of course work so well in the OR that Hamilton is impressed and doesn’t want to court martial them. 

To Margaret it’s so completely unjust that she has to try and hold back the tears that are threatening to escape until she can make to her tent. She’s charging along focussed only on getting to her tent as soon as possible. She absolutely can not cry in front of everyone. She can not show weakness. She doesn’t see Hawkeye standing on the other side of the compound watching her go, nor Trapper watching Hawkeye watch her. She’s vaguely aware of Frank starting to come after her, calling her name but she’s not about to stop and turn around. When she reaches her tent she locks the door as soon as she makes in inside

“Margaret. Margaret!”

“Oh go away, Frank!” She screeches and throws something at the door.

She hears him startle and scuttle away. Always the wimp. He didn't even stick around protest what she’d yelled at him or to make sure she really was okay. In her experience there were two types of men in the world: those that thought emotions were a sign of weakness and those that were too weak to deal with them. She’d never met a man that didn’t fall into those two categories.

  
  


After watching this whole scene unfold Hawkeye suddenly says to Trapper “I’ve gotta go see Henry” and takes off. Trapper shakes his head, bemused.

Henry’s just settling back into his office post surgery when Pierce comes barging in. He seems agitated and doesn’t bother with either a greeting or sitting down before launching into what he has to say. “Hey Henry, you know those unauthorised passes to Tokyo? Whaddya say you authorise them and we give them to Margaret before she razes this camp to the ground.” 

Margaret, eh? Henry studies him for a moment, “You want me to give Major Houlihan two three-day passes in the hope that she’ll take you to Tokyo?”

Henry notes the pained expression that briefly crosses Pierce’s face. 

“Oh there’s no way she’ll take me, she’s not too fond of me right now. She’ll probably want to take Major Burns though.” 

Pierce looked...concerned. Chastised? Possibly regretful. This was interesting. Henry wondered what had happened between now and 20 minutes ago when he last saw Pierce all gung ho and handcuffing himself to McIntyre. “Fine. You can have your passes. It can never hurt to have Major Houlihan in a better mood than she already is. Here you go, now the sooner you get these to her the better, or she might kill some of the nurses.” _ And two of the doctors _ , he silently adds.

“Actually I was kind of hoping you would...”

“Pierce, you made the scary lady angry,  so you can go right over there make the scary lady un-angry. Plus I already gave you the passes, now get outta here!”

Poor bastard. If Henry didn’t know any better he’d think there were actual feelings at stake here. Though how that particular idiot had fallen for that particular _her_ he would never know. 

  
  


Hawkeye felt guilt gnawing at him, and it had started the moment he’d seen the tears in Margaret’s eyes and had been growing steadily worse ever since. It had cut right through his rampaging “all singing, all dancing screw you to the army festival of farce” in mere seconds. As the momentum and adrenaline of raising hell has wore off, he started to worry about the damage he might have caused. When this had all started he’d been fine with taking Margaret along for the ride. After all, she’d already made it plenty clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. But Hawkeye wasn’t sorry to Frank, the army or to Henry, but the gnawing feeling he had said that he  _ did _ feel very guilty for winding Margaret up so hard and then humiliating her in front of everyone. Against his better judgement he still cares. Hawkeye looks down at the envelope in his hand. He’s not expecting anything miraculous from this, but he’s hoping they’ll at least go a small way towards an apology.

When he reaches her tent he knocks on the door, the light wood rattling under his knuckles.

  
  


“What do you want!” the tent screeches.

“It’s me, I have something for you”

There’s a short pause as she figures out who “me” is before Margaret explodes into a tirade.

“Why you... if you think you can lure me out of my tent just so you can include me in another one of your...your schemes you’ve got another thing coming, buster!”

“Look, I’ve got something for you, a peace offering. Henry gave me a couple of three day passes for Tokyo. I thought you could use the break, and you can even take Frank.” He gets the words out quickly before she can accuse him of bribing her to take him to Tokyo. There’s no sound coming from the tent so he continues, “I’ll just slide them under your door and then and leave you alone.” 

He slides the envelope under her door and waits, but there’s no sound. His shoulders slump slightly as he leaves.

  
  


Margaret can’t speak for trying not to start crying again. In her world no one, especially no man, has ever done anything like this for her; not while she was growing up, not in nursing school, not in Europe in WW2, and certainly not here. He didn't even suggest she should take him or offer her (or demand) any sexual favours. She breaks into fresh tears. This place is too emotionally exhausting. The ideas of structure and discipline she’d been  holding on to for her sanity crumbling, and the decision of the General to side with the boys smarting over her smarting. She goes over to check the contents of the envelope just slipped under her door. She turns the passes over looking for signs of a trick or prank but doesn’t find any. Two three day-passes for Tokyo for use starting tomorrow.

Margaret now has to decide who, if anyone, to take with her to Tokyo.

  
  


  
TBC  
  



	9. Chapter 9

She’s gone. Hawkeye had been lying on his bunk an hour ago when Frank had come skipping into the Swamp, gleefully packed his duffel bag and skipped back out again. He’d been so happy that he hadn’t even stopped to brag. Hawkeye downed the martini he’d been holding in one go and had then watched Margaret come out to the jeep, all dressed up in her class A’s; she even managed to make that horrible taupe colour look good. She’s all smiles as she puts her luggage into the jeep and climbs aboard. Hawkeye hadn’t missed her looking over at his corner of the Swamp. He wasn’t sure how much she could see of him through the mesh sides, but he’d decided that that was the perfect time for another martini. Now three martinis later and in need of a refill, Hawkeye’s leaning down next to his bunk where he’s already got the beaker of gin waiting when Trapper comes in.

“Who died?”

“My liver”

“Well that’s nothing new”

“I’m having a party because Frank’s gone”

“Ohh, you’re having a wake because Hot Lips is in Tokyo with Frank”

The look Hawkeye shoots Trapper is dirty. “Do you think it would be too much if I took all of Frank’s stuff outside and made a bonfire ?”

“Maybe a little. How’bout you go to Hot Lips’ tent and roll in some of her clothes instead, although it does seem like something Frank might do. Pass the gin. I want some before you drink it all.”

  
  


When Margaret and Frank arrive in Tokyo. Frank is talking about himself and making her sweet, saccharine promises and Margaret is smiling but is more interested in taking in the sights and sounds; she had no idea she’d missed civilisation this much. They take a rickshaw to their hotel. Frank is still twittering on about different inanities but Margaret’s not really listening; she’s feeling more reflective than chatty. After mulling things over she’d decided to bring Frank to Tokyo. Going alone probably would have been the smartest choice, but she already felt alone so much of the time that she was worried that she might lose herself if she had nobody. Part of her had desperately wanted to bring Hawkeye... _ Pierce _ , she corrected herself, but truth be told she trusted him less now than she had when she’d first met him. The stakes were higher and he’d just betrayed her big time. She’s aware that she’d pushed him away first, and he  _ had  _ tried to repair things between them after the way he’d treated her, but her relationship with him was a delicate and unknown quantity. Then to add some complication; somewhere in the utter craziness between them Margaret had realised that there was a very small spark of something she’d never seen before. It was a spark to send her running, but to it or from it she hadn’t decided. 

 

She and Frank arrive at the hotel. Margaret had had Radar book them somewhere nice, but she’d also had him book her and Frank separate rooms. Partially for appearances, and partially because she wanted at least some time to herself over the next few days.

After they check in she turns to Frank, “Do you want to come to my room first?”

“Oh Margaret, darling, I’d love that” he simpers.

They walk in, it’s lovely. It has a double bed with a floral cover and a view of the city, and there’s a bottle of real live actual champagne on the side table. They crack open the bottle, giggling, and pour themselves a glass. “Oh Margaret, this is lovely. My wife would love this place...”

“ _ Wife? _ Frank! You have a  _ Wife? _ ”

“Margaret, sweetheart, she’s just a small wife, y’know, back in the states. She doesn’t matter, I don’t love her, I…”

“GET OUT!”

“But  _ Margaret,  _ I…”

“I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN WHILE WE’RE HERE, OR EVER AGAIN, GET. OUT!”

Frank skitters away and out the door. 

She can’t believe it. She throws her glass across the room before she can stop herself, it shatters spilling champagne down the wallpaper about the same time as Margaret bursts into tears. She’d cried more since being assigned to the 4077th than she had in the past year. Vulnerability and feelings were easier to quash when she was in control, and men were a lot easier when they were Generals and she was just trading favours. Feelings could go to hell.

  
  


Time back at the 4077 feels like it’s slowed to a crawl. It’d been two days since Frank and Margaret left and there’d been no wounded. When there were no wounded there was absolutely nothing to do. Trapper was about ready to throw Hawkeye into the minefield, or strap him to the back of a moving jeep. Between the drinking, moping, sighing, longing looks at Margaret’s tent and griping about Frank at every damn opportunity. He was completely insufferable. “Come on Hawk, time to get out of bed and eat some lunch”

“But mommy I don’t wanna.”

“Come on Hawk, ya gotta get out of bed sometime”

“No I don’t.”

Trapper had had enough. He grabbed Hawkeye’s blanket and threw it over to the other side of the tent.

“Hey, I was using that!”

“That’s kinda the point. Now here’s your robe, let’s go.”

They start trudging over to the mess tent when Henry catches them.

“Morning guys”

“Morning Henry”

“Morning Henry” Hawkeye barely mumbles before continuing to the mess.

Henry turns to Trapper, slightly incredulous “Is he really that cut up about Major Houlihan?”

“I think the fact that he’s been sent to war is catching up to him, but this whole thing with her and Frank hasn’t exactly helped.”

“Huh, he really does like her.”

“Does seem that way.”

“I never woulda picked it, I mean, those two!”

“You’re telling me.”

“Let’s hope it gets better when she gets back.”

They could only hope, because something had to give.

 

They get through lunch before Hawkeye slopes back to the Swamp and flops back down onto his bunk. This place is the pits. He’s getting ready to raid the still again when he hears the sound of a jeep. It’s too early to be Margaret, but the arrival of almost anyone would make life more interesting. 

As it pulls into camp the sound of yelling can be heard across the compound,

“Don’t you dare touch me you, you animal!”

“But Margaret, I’m just trying to help with your bags.”

“I don’t need your help!”

“Margaret, sweetie.” Frank simpered, changing tack.

“Oh go salute yourself!” Margaret was having none of it, she slapped his hands away, picked her bags up and stormed off.

Clouds of dust rose from her angry footfalls as she made her way to her tent.

Those who’d been borne witness to this were flabbergasted but pleased. It was about time something interesting happened. 

Hawkeye, meanwhile, had launched himself off his bunk and rummaged until he found the garment bag that he kept his Class A’s in. He hung it on a nail and then went about shaving as Frank flounced into the Swamp.

Hawkeye greeted him gleefully, “Hi Frank, did you have a nice trip?”

“None of your beeswax you nosey nelly!”

“Margaret seems in good spirits, what did you do to her?”

“Nothing! She got all angry and started throwing things when she found out I had a wife!”

Hawkeye bursts into uncontrollable laughter and Frank suddenly realises that Hawkeye is getting dressed in his dress uniform. He narrows his eyes distrustfully. “What are you up to? You never shave or wear your uniform, let alone your dress uniform!”

“I heard there was an angry, blonde Major in town, I thought I might go cheer her up.”

Hawkeye sees fear in the other man’s eyes with his incredulity. “You! She doesn’t like you!”

“Oh I dunno, bet I’m more popular than you right now.” 

Frank huffs and scowls before starting to unpack violently. He scoffs childishly when he catches sight of a now dressed Hawkeye adjusting his cap on his head. The man had gone all out. “I hope you fall into the minefield!”

“The feeling’s mutual, Frank.” Hawkeye says as he heads off out the door. For the second time that day the camp stops and stares. Hawkeye in regulation uniform was unheard of, and his dress uniform no less.

He’s barely gone two steps when he runs into a surprised Trapper.

“What are you doing? And more importantly, where are you going?”

“I’m off to see a nurse, a Major nurse” he says and practically bounces away. Hawkeye knows there’s a strong chance of rejection, but for the moment he doesn’t care. He doesn't care because he has so much to lose that he almost has nothing to lose. He can’t stand it anymore, because the tension had passed unbearable the day she’d left for Tokyo.

  
  
  


TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Margaret was sitting on her bunk, fuming. What was she supposed to do now? The entire camp had just seen her scream at Frank, Frank was still out there, and more importantly, Hawkeye Pierce was out there. She still hasn’t quite decided what she’s going to do about that man, but has the feeling she’d better have decided what she wants to do with him before she sees him again. That all goes out the window when there’s a knock at the door. She takes a deep breath and composes herself before calling out “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Hawkeye. Care to join me for a little walk?”

Margaret groans inwardly. She isn’t ready for this, but they do need to talk at some point, and it’ll at least solve the problem of having something to do. Her mouth falls open in shock when she opens the door: there standing in front of her is a well groomed, immaculately dressed Hawkeye Pierce in a dress uniform that would pass inspection. She has to stop herself from swooning. When she eventually recovers she murmurs “Who are you and what have you done with Captain Pierce?”

Hawkeye grins, eyes full of mirth. This is the reaction he’d been hoping for. “Milady” he says and offers her his arm. She accepts, his presence combined with smell of his aftershave tickling her senses in all the right places. Margaret really didn’t have a hope because she knows what she wants to do to him after their talk is over. She has no idea where her better judgement has gone, but perhaps it’s just that she’s tired of pretending she feels nothing for him.

“Where are we going?” she demands as they start walking.

“Somewhere with less eyeballs.” He knew she wouldn’t just come quietly, but her tone means he has to resist rolling his eyes.

“What does that mean?” She says sharply. 

“Look, just trust me, okay?” he implores gently, hoping he’s kept the desperation he’s feeling from his voice.

Margaret looks up at him and meets his eyes, did she trust him? His expression is sincere, and she knows he’d never intentionally put her in harm’s way.

 

They turn the heads of everyone they pass, Captain Pierce and Major Houlihan walking arm in arm voluntarily, all dressed up and heading out of camp? It’s like having a real life soap opera play out before their eyes. Henry was one of these people.

“Radar?”

“Yes sir?”

“Did I just see what I think I saw?”

“You did sir.”

“They’ve gotta be two of the most ridiculous people I’ve ever met.”

“Indeed they are, sir.”

Radar was busy trying to mentally calculate who was about to win a whole lot of money.

  
  


They stop when they reach a private spot near the stream. “Come on, let’s sit for a while”. Margaret’s mouth is dry. She feels reticent, and all words appropriate for the current situation all feel too big somehow.

They sit side by side watching the water, shoulders almost touching and are quiet for a moment before Hawkeye speaks, “I just wanted to apologise for how I’ve behaved and how I’ve treated you. I let my anger at being sent to this hell hole spill into my frustration with our situation.”

She looks up and scans his eyes again, trying to see if he’s joking or if this is a prank, but he’s still serious and sincere.

“I’m sorry too, I was scared. I don’t like feeling vulnerable and I, you, you make me feel stripped bare.” she admits looking bashful.

“If only it made you look bare as well.” Hawkeye joked, but his smile was gentle, he wasn’t mocking her. Margaret hits him lightly on the arm in response.

“You’re somewhat of an enigma to me too, Margaret Houlihan. You’re one itch that demands to be scratched and just won’t leave me alone! You’re so strict and regular army, and I hate the army.”

“Well how do you think I feel? You're a draftee Captain who hates the army and refuses to follow regulation and plays up at every chance. Not to mention I swore I’d never ever consider a relationship with anyone lower in rank!”

“And yet here we are.”

Here they were indeed.

The air crackled between them as they stared at each other. They get closer and closer to each other; first arms wrap around bodies, then mouths meet. Their kiss starts out sweet and gentle and full of promise but it very quickly deepens into something searing that threatens to make good on that promise. They must be quite a sight; two army officers sitting in the grass, making out like teenagers. They stop when they need air more than each other

“Yep, we’ve still got it” Hawkeye manages quietly. The amount of his blood that just rushed south is making it hard to think.

“I’ll say. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted so badly to take a man back to my tent and have my way with him.” Margaret says huskily looking flushed and slightly dazed. They sit, still entwined.

“Why Margaret, you minx.”

She blushes slightly “It’s not my fault. You’re all dressed up in your uniform, all clean shaven and smelling good; a girl can’t resist! ”

“I think I’ve developed a sudden liking for my Class A’s. Hey, I was thinking, how about we take a leisurely stroll back to camp, have an early but romantic dinner of miscellaneous slop in the mess tent and then retire back to your choice of the supply tent or your place and have our wicked way with each other.”

“Do we really need to have dinner? We could just go straight to my tent.”

“We could, but I was thinking I’d like to make the most of us both being exceptionally well groomed and show you off to everyone first. Plus eating means more stamina for later.” Hawkeye winks.

Margaret stands and pulls him to his feet. “It had better not be a long dinner”, she growled, but really she was pleased that he wanted everyone to see them together. She pulls Hawkeye’s head down to her level and kisses him aggressively. She was definitely living up to her nickname and he couldn’t be happier.

  
  


TBC!

 

**AN: I know I know, I feel kinda cruel cutting this chapter where I did (it was getting way too large), but the good news is that the next chapter has been written and is just being edited. I should have it up by the end of the day (Australian Eastern Daylight Savings time) ; )**


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, the final chapter! Thank you so much to everybody who’s been following this, I’ve loved having your company while I play around with these characters. There’ll be an epilogue after this, and then I’ll hopefully be back sometime soon with a new idea and a new story about our favourite pair!

They begin the short walk back to camp, her arm around his waist and his possessively around her shoulder, and both slightly dishevelled. Hawkeye picks a piece of grass out of her hair as they walk. “So why’d you and Frank come back from Tokyo so early?”

“Well, I found out as soon as we arrived that he had a wife, and I was kind of sick of being alone. Then I thought I’d be able to leave early and not have to travel with him, but the creep was lurking around outside my hotel room!”

“Ugh, what a creep. You can do so much better than him.” he says smugly.

Margaret smiles at him seductively, “Are you sure about that? On paper you’re a downgrade.”

“Oh sure, but you haven’t seen what I can do off paper yet.”

“Oh I think I have some idea.” she says, trailing a finger on her free hand down the middle of his chest.

They’re in the outskirts of camp now. Hawkeye drops a quick kiss on her lips, and a nearby enlisted man who’d been working on a jeep drops parts of the engine he’d been fixing. Margaret giggles, and Hawkeye looks at her in surprise, pleasantly surprised to see a glimpse of her softer side. As they near the mess tent and the centre of camp they’re met with scattered applause and wolf whistles. When they enter the tent, arms still around each other, Frank drops the mug and tray he’s holding, his face aghast. It takes a lot of restraint for Hawkeye not to kiss Margaret soundly in front of him; instead he guides her to an available seat possessively and goes off to get them food. “Don’t get me too much, I want room for dessert.” She calls out to Hawkeye with a suggestive wink and Frank whimpers and flees. Hawkeye comes back with one tray to share and they eat quickly, seemingly oblivious to the gaping, whispering people around them. The pair finish their food quickly and Margaret all but pulls Hawkeye from his place on the bench before pulling him, laughing, across the compound to her tent.

 

The tent door has barely closed before their mouths crash together, the desire that’s been building since that fateful day coursing through them Margaret takes Hawkeye’s hat and flings it across the room, and hers soon follows. Fingers fumble with buttons, neither of them able to undress the other as fast as they’d like. Hawkeye pulls away slightly and mumbles “Wait a minute wait a minute..”while Margaret continues attacking his lips. She stops and looks at him questioningly, slightly annoyed. “You take off your jacket, I take off mine, and then this will all be easier.” Margaret nods in agreement, and before Hawkeye is even half way in undoing his, she’s taken hers off, lifted her shirt over head without bothering with buttons, and is halfway through unzipping and removing her her skirt and busily kicking off her shoes. He catches sight of her in nothing but a her underwear, stockings and garter belt and groans. “You’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” he tells her honestly. Margaret blushes under his gaze and Hawkeye pulls her to him and kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. Margaret moans in response. When she recovers she growls “If you don’t hurry up and take your clothes off I’ll cut your buttons off.”

“Why Margaret, no respect for the uniform!”Hawkeye jibes.

She silences him by putting her hand down the front of his pants, he gasps when she finds her target and gives it a firm squeeze. Margaret doesn’t even grin, already too breathless with the anticipation of what’s to come. Hawkeye then rips his coat open, buttons flying everywhere, and lifts his arms up as Margaret pulls his shirt over his head. Now they’re getting somewhere. She takes one look at his lean, muscular chest and licks her way up his breastbone. He tastes salty, male, and like something else distinctly him. Unable to stand it anymore, Margaret’s deft fingers undo his belt and swiftly relieves him of his pants and shorts before pushing him back onto her bunk and pulling off his shoes. She stands between his legs as he pulls any remaining clothes from her body, ripping her nylons in the process. “Hey, you owe me for those, you’re lucky I wasn’t wearing my silk pair!”. Hawkeye simply grunts and pulls Margaret down on top of him. Their lovemaking is frantic and frenzied, both of them fighting for dominance, both unused to having a partner that’s able to keep up with them. Eventually they both collapse into a sweaty heap. Hawkeye brushes his damp, black hair out of his eyes and winces at the scratches he can feel on his back. He looks down at the lovely creature next to him; she’s lying curled into him, blonde hair around her like a tousled halo looking incredibly relaxed  _ incredibly satisfied  _ Hawkeye grins to himself. Margaret looks up and beams at him. God she’s beautiful. “Hey,” he says, “We should do this again sometime.”

“Always with the joking.” she mumbles into his chest, but she doesn’t look annoyed.

“But really, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” he murmurs while nibbling on her ear. Things are starting again.

“That’s better. You’re not so bad yourself.” she says, bringing his mouth to hers.

Hawkeye’s sure they’ll talk about feelings someday, they definitely have them, particularly where each other are concerned, but for now it’s easier to say things physically, because that’s just who they are.

 

FIN

  
  



	12. Epilogue

Henry had been having a good day, a nice day, a quiet day. It was a lull after a deluge. He’d slept for 12 hours, had a slow breakfast, had sat down in his office and was just pouring himself a scotch from a bottle he’d been saving when radar came in. “Major Houlihan and Captain Pierce here to see you, sir”

“Oh Christ, what do they want?”

Things had changed quite a bit after the Captain and the Major had become an item.

Frank was now quiet and mostly just stayed out of people’s way. He just lurked and sulked while people completely ignored him. Houlihan had stopped trying to report everyone and everything that moved in a way that she disapproved of. She had relaxed quite a bit. She was still excellent at her job and still demanded excellence from her staff, but she was more forgiving, fairer, and didn’t worry so much about everything being by the book. She also spent most of her spare time locked in her tent with Pierce. The camp had also discovered that the Major was more devious than she looked. Whether Pierce had taught her some new tricks or whether she’d just been very good at hiding her natural talents, no one was quite sure, but she was just as capable as her boyfriend at pulling a fast one if the mood struck her. Pierce and McIntyre had nothing on Pierce and Houlihan.  She’d paid the Korean laundry staff to dye all the surgical scrubs pink when she’d won a bet against Pierce and McIntyre, and put Frank Burns’ bedding up the flagpole when she’d caught him going through her tent. Henry was amazed that Frank himself wasn't strung up, but God knows what they did to him on a daily basis. Pierce was calmer these days less hot-headed. He seemed to be content with having his very own personal spitfire, and flirted with her and stared at her ass and left the rest of the nurses alone.

They they barely ever bothered him in person, though, usually just doing whatever they wanted seeing as between them they more or less ran the medical side of the camp, but when they did it was usually a doozy.

 

“Send them in, Radar.” Henry was already a bit concerned; they hadn’t come charging in before being asked, but shuffled in when asked, she looking pale, he looking concerned and tense. He noted Pierce’s squeeze of her hand before they sat in their separate chairs. A lightbulb went off in Henry’s head as he went through but he quickly dismissed it, because the thought of these two reproducing with anyone, let alone _each other_ would be one of the most terrifying things to ever happen.

“What seems to be the problem?”

Margaret nodded to Hawkeye who then spoke “We think Margaret might be pregnant” he murmured quickly, eyes looking everywhere but at Henry.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said she thinks she’s pregnant!”

“How did...how did you...nevermind.” Henry could guess what had probably happened. The amount of time these two spent with each other behind closed doors had already put them forward as the camp’s most likely couple to fall victim to the statistical failure rate of contraceptives.

Margaret was determinedly staring straight ahead, jaw firmly set.

Henry blew out a sigh “So what makes you think that...uh...this might be the case?” Henry looked at Margaret who didn’t move or respond, “Major?”

She started before responding, “It hasn’t been that time of the month for over a month”

“Ah, I see. Well, um, I guess we should send you to Tokyo for some tests then. We should be able to get you out of here tomorrow.”

Margaret nods once, remaining silent, and then gets up and leaves.

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance I can go with her?”

“Look, Pierce, I’m sorry, but there could be casualties at any time. We really can’t be without both of you if that happens. Y’know I just can’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“That you of all people might have knocked up Hot-Lips Houlihan.”

Hawkeye gives a slightly melancholy grin at this as he stands to leave, appreciating the irony, “It’s pretty a pretty good one, isn’t it.”

  


The next few days are very quiet. Hawkeye stays in the Swamp despite Trapper’s repeated attempts to get him out for a round of golf, or nurse spotting, or anything, and everyone else is lazily going about whatever it is they do when there’s nothing to do. Henry’s signing yet another stack of papers that Radar has brought to him when Radar suddenly stops and listens. “There’s a jeep coming, wonder if it’s Major Houlihan?”

Radar rushes to the window, Henry gets up and follows him.

“Do you really think that her ‘n Captain Pierce might have a baby?”

“Certainly seems like it could be that way.”

They watch Hawkeye rush out of his tent to greet her, he helps her down from the jeep and folds her into his arms as she shakes her head. They stay like this for a moment before loosening their hold on each other. Hawkeye leaves an arm around her and guides her gently towards the office.

“They’re coming this way, sir.”

Henry hurries back over to his desk and tries to look like he’s been there the whole time. He hasn’t done anything wrong, but somehow feels like he’s just intruded on a private moment.

“Take a seat, guys” Henry says as the pair comes in, but they don’t, preferring to stay standing and wrapped around each other for support. He takes in the Major’s red rimmed eyes and slightly dishevelled appearance. She takes a deep breath and speaks, “The test was negative. The, uh, issues I’ve been having are from having high stress levels and not eating enough.”

Henry’s silent for a moment, he doesn’t quite know how to respond.  He watches as Hawkeye’s arm tightens around her waist. “If that’s all, we might go and, uh...”

“Of course. Oh, and Major?” she turns to look at Henry and he continues, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” She whispers before the pair turn and leave.

 

“Uh, Radar?”

“Yes sir?”

“Who won the bet on them getting together again?”

“Uh, Captain McIntyre.”

“Figures. And who bet on them staying together the longest?”

“I said until the end of the war and Father Mulcahy said Forever.”

Not for the first time he wondered if in this case, the sometimes selectively naive Father might actually be right.

  


FIN


End file.
